Thursday, April 26, 2012

Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
That is what I tell myself as the creature sends a stab of agony
across my body—
Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
And yet, I feel that I would willingly,
happily, die
just to be free of the pain—there is no
escape.

Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
It is the only clear thought, the line that grounds me,
in a sea of …please, I would do anything—
No. No, what have I done?

Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
Send me down to the planet, don’t you understand?Nothing could be worse than this.
They can hurt me no more
than they do already. At least I can help, before
the inevitable end.

Pain is of the mind. The mind…
what is the use? I let myself float in agony,
welcome it—because there is nothing else I can do—
my mind is foggy, and I can concentrate on only the pain,
it consumes my being.

Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
It is a mantra, which I repeat, because if I say it, I will not hurt.
That is all I can do—lie to myself, say
this, and you’ll feel better.
It works. As much as anything.

Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
That is what they think. They think I am in control,
when I succumbed to it long ago.
I go through the motions, because
because I have to. There is nothing left

Pain is of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
The Doctor isn’t fooled, and yet I can’t find it within myself to care.

Pain is of the mind.

The mind can be controlled.

Part 2: Revenge

We watch as the creature shrivels into nothing
and even though I long ago stopped thinking
I feel a burst of life—too twisted to be called happiness—
as the thing dies. Perhaps, if it was not punishing me
so that I can hardly stand,
so that a human would long ago have been crying on the floor
curled up
and even a Vulcan would be sitting, staring at the ground, trying to meditate
and failing—perhaps then I would feel something for this life
snuffed out
other than pleasure.
It is evil of me,
and yet I can’t be
bothered
to care.

Part 3: An Equitable Trade

I can see their worried faces,
they know—we all know—what will probably happen.
But they don’t know that right now,
blindness
would be an equitable trade
to be free of the pain.
I have forgotten what it feels like
not to be in pain.

Part 4: A Not-So Equitable Trade

For a moment, I do nothing but lie there
luxuriating
in the fact
that I can relax
it is heaven.
Finally, I open my eyes.
As I thought—I can see nothing.
Soon, I will regret the loss,
but now, I can do no more than note it with interest.
Kaiidth.
I hear the Doctor and Jim at the door,
in my mind, I can picture their worried faces.
I get up, and walk forward.
I make it out of the door and across the room
before I collide with a desk.
I can hear the startled horror in Jim’s voice
as I tell them the truth.
And I can see
that they do not believe it is
‘an equitable trade’.

Part 5: All Right

I can perceive much of my surroundings
my hearing can place anyone in the room with accuracy
it is the things which are the most
frustrating.

Also, the pity. It has been hardly a day
and yet everyone seems to have heard what happened.
At least I can use the excuse of ‘acclimating’
to send them away, so I can be alone.

The Doctor is the worst.
He feels guilty, and it does not take eyes
to sense it on him every time he is near me.
Unfortunately, that is quite often.

He will not look at the situation logically.
It is not his fault…not any more than it was mine…
or the captain’s. But he will not see it like that.

It is a strange feeling, I have discovered.
I may pretend that all is well, but it is not.
Right now, it does not feel as if things will ever be
‘all right.’

Part 6: Surprise

Doctor McCoy is bending over me
when I suddenly see
a blue shape.
In my surprise, I say nothing.
I look up.
The shape is clearer now.
It is Doctor McCoy, bending over me.

Part 7: Sight

“I can see,” I announce.
The Doctor looks at me.
I look at him.
Right now, he seems
the most wondrous sight
in the world.

Part 8: Relief (optional. I wanted a happy ending, but I couldn't get it to sound right.)

All is back to normal, and
I am secretly relieved.
Normality aboard this ship,
this home; and safety in it.
My friends will joke
and I will never tell them...
what no one needs to know.
All is well.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

I went back in time
to run after McCoy,
who went past the guardian of forever,
there I met her,
Edith,
One I learned to love,
But then I found that she would soon die, and if I
saved her, the future I knew would be--gone,
I saw her walk across the street,
as the truck came rumbling by,
the doctor tried to save her, but I held him
back.
She'd walked across to see me,
and I stopped the one that could save her,
so in a way,
to tears of mine,
I was the cause, of her ending time...

Edith Keeler must die.
The question hangs, unanswered
Why is fate so cruel
with us, why must we be the dealers of Justice
Stuck in a time that was never ours,
trying to fix something we don’t understand.

Edith, strangely, understands
that which is not, yet—one day all that the world spends on death will die—
they will spend it on life. I feel the hours
counting down, the Doom which no word
can fix—Justice
is a hard, cruel,

taskmaster. I wonder how I can be so cruel
even as I tell myself she would understand
—but would she? I am on an errand of Justice,
but there is nothing just about such a thing. Yes, all this time I hold her
hand, knowing she must die,
I feel so well her goodness, while I am her unanswered
question and her end. No, ours.

In a few hours,
how can the world and all the universe, so bright, suddenly feel so cruel?
Nothing has changed—nothing, but that I now have my answer—
an answer which, as much I try, I cannot understand.
It is as if I couldn’t hear Spock’s words— “the sun must die.”
How can the killing of an Angel be justice?

No, rather it is the ultimate evil—no matter what the reason
for this ‘justice’
it is nothing more than mockery—this pale, thin mockery of ours.
And yet, I know it must be done, I know she must die
to save so many other lives…once, I promised myself, I would never be so cruel.
Even though my mind understands
the difference, Kodos stares back at me, a silent answer.

And yet I know it is not the same, I should know the answer…
his was tyranny, horror, mine is to prevent tyranny and horror. It is justice—
and Spock would say the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. He
believes it, as I never can, deep in his heart. I understand it, and yet my
heart can’t understand.
The weeks and days have run down to mere hours
and still, I try to push away the inevitable, cruel
end. In the end, I cannot watch her die.

I understand there is no
answer.
I die as she does, killed by myself—harbinger of justice.
Justice—just one more of our names for death. There is no justice, and the
world is cruel.

It started when the world blinked out.
The rest of the day
seemed to exist
in some sort of vacuum,
shaken
every so often,
by fields of stars
across our eyelids
and the sudden
absence
of …anything
Broken
every so often
by Lazarus,
falling off a cliff
(again),
the day
was horrible
in an absence
of anything
and it was as if
we were puppets
dancing
on a dark stage
for an
absent
audience.
Knowing all of existence
might end
can do that
to a day.
Perhaps
it was fitting
that the final meeting
should take place
in an
anti-universe,
on a small,
empty world
where the wind
blew
the grasses
and there was no
sound.

I never meant the
conversation to go where it did,
I was too caught up in it to stop,
and in the end, I had to leave
with the last shreds of my dignity.
Why do I ever talk to Kirk and McCoy
when they’re in such a good mood?

I may look scary, I may kill your crew,but it's not my fault, i'm telling you,you're near my eggs, my children,what you did was dangerous to them,what I did was all I could,and if it were you, I'm sure you'd agree,that it's also what you would have done.

They have it down.
Spock goes up to the man:
“Sir,
you have a multi-legged creature
crawling
on your shoulder.”
Before the man can react—
perhaps imagining a
great, hairy, caterpillar—
or struck dumb by
the intruder’s non-sequitur,
his hand goes out—
the man has
no more time
to wonder anything.
He is quite
unconscious.

-Noelle

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A Taste of Armageddon

(from the point of view of Kirk)

Along our way we found a planet,

aRound their time of war,

aiM their weapons they did not, for computers did it for them,

and A group at a time people were killed, as many as would have died if the attacks were real,

(Sestina: an unrhyming poem with six stanzas, where the end-words of each line repeat in a different order in each stanza.

In this poem, every line is said or thought by one of the Galileo Seven. None of the characters speak more than one line in a row, except for the last three lines, which are...well, you'll see who's POV the last three lines are in if you read it.)

--- --- ---

Logically, I had no choice—
I want none of your logic, you greenblooded Vulcan!

We are going to die.
Act like you at least care.
Mr. Spock will find some way to save us.
Aye, lass, that he will.

I know I’ll be the first to die. I will…
He’s dead! We don’t need your help. Our choice
I want to help, but the others aren’t. Look at us—
It’s the ‘logical’ course of action. You’re a Vulcan.
Logic is not all—how can you so little care—
We have to kill them, hurt them. Otherwise—you saw. We’ll die.

Mr. Spock, I have an idea—we might not have to die.
I was sent to die. I know. The creature seems to follow me through force of
will—
I don’t know why I go after him, pick up the body—What they said. Did I care?
Spock, I know I’ll regret my words later, but I can’t stop. No choice—
He infuriates me, scares me. I can’t understand him. He’s alien… Vulcan.
I know he’ll figure it out. I’ll stand by him, though the others may doubt us.

Electrify the outer hull, I say—the others watch us.
The creatures are gone. Maybe, just maybe, we won’t die…
We have to bury them—give them a proper funeral. I’m no Vulcan.
Humans. So reckless. I will permit it—if the creatures will.
I watch Mr. Spock as he makes a choice.
It’s because I’m terrified. Now I care

It’s done. We have the power to try, if you care—
Eight minutes until takeoff. You have ten. The creatures watch us—
The spears start. Now, my words forgotten, I turn back—I don’t make a choice.
That choice means we will die.
I watch, willing them on. You’ll make it. You will.
He was heartless, but just as much to himself. He’s surprised me. Vulcan—

Well, Spock. Your last act was very human. —I’m no longer
angry with the Vulcan.
I look straight ahead, try not to care—

You said there are always alternatives. I will
Not now. I may have been mistaken. —I don’t look at us
I wonder what it will feel like when we die.
I look at the button. There it is, in front of me. A choice.

As if against my will, my hand reaches out, flips the switch.
It is not Vulcan.
I have made the choice, and part of me wishes I hadn’t—no turning back, but I
don’t care.
Here we are—all that is left of the Galileo seven. All of us have a chance. A
chance to live, or a chance to die…

They
Beat
Us
In
Battle,
I
Have
To
Destroy
The
Ship,
Myself
And
My
Crew,
...Go
o
d
b
y
e.
.
.

-Joie

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Balance of TerrorThe Balance

The important thing
was the balance.
Without it, there would be war,
yet again—
but with that fragile balance,
ever shifting,
ever changing,
it was avoided.
Before our eyes, we saw
the Balance tip—
and right with the destruction of a ship.

I took Pike to that planet, where
we both were long ago,
He said he wanted to go.
I took him back, and he became young again-
With Vina at his side.
I hid it from the others,
but his smile made me want to cry.
Then he walked away with her...
He had peace of mind.

All the evidence pointed to Spock
but I couldn’t believe it
when I could ignore the truth no longer,
I wondered—if I had never known him.
I thought he would have some
logical reason—some important, logical reason—
it wasn’t till later that I realized
how wrong it was.
Logic is
a tricky thing—something can fit the rules,
and yet be based on a faulty premise.
In the same way, an emotional duty
can be carried out with cold logic.
And that was it, wasn’t it—
duty. Not logic, but duty.

Sorry, Kirk, I missed it all...You know, came down with the space flu. :)

-Joie- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Corbomite Maneuver

(an acrostic poem)

There was a strange, glowing cube
Heading for the ship when they tried to steer around it
Elsewhere, Balok lay in wait.

Corbomite was the
Only thing that could save them—once they
Realized the game that was
Being played.
One by one, the
Minutes counted down
Immeasurably long, immeasurably fast
The seconds counted down: three, two, one—
End.

Mayhap all was not as it
Appeared. They met the alien—
Not
Evil as they had thought.
Under the low ceilings they
Ventured to meet their opponent.
Except for the explanation, all was over and
Right with the world.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

He was wonderful, Jim,
he saved us all from death,
but now he's leaving,
back to his ship and his crew,
I liked him,
his yeoman did too,
and now I've said goodbye,
so back to the mysteries of space he'll fly...Why?

-Joie - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Miri

It was present in the way we
didn’t think about it
in the tense voices as we fought
to find a cure
in the silences lousy with smouldering anger
and despair.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Pills to make me beautiful,
so I could marry a miner and get rich as quick as 'I do.'
The other girls, they told me, not to back out...
But I couldn't help it,
it wasn't me,
though I went along with it anyway.
I got married on that mine planet,
but not for riches,
in the end.

-Joie- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mudd’s Women

Hello, my name is Harry Mudd,
if you have a problem, I'll help!
Want to be beautiful, rich; and live far away
from this planet of yours?
Well I've got a ship so hop right in!

My name is James T. Kirk
Captain of the Starship Enterprise
and I don’t trust you, Mr… ‘Leo Walsh’?
You or your women.

My human name is Spock
and I have observed that something is going on.
Something to do with magical women and Harry Mudd.
And all our lithium crystals are broken
so we are off… we have not yet reached the bottom of this mystery.